Perfection comes at a price
by Maleema
Summary: Oneshot on what I think happened after Clive was sent to prison.Slight ClivexFlora drabble. May consider developing into more chapters later on...*shot* Rated K plus  for a minor swear. Spoilers of Unwound Future ahead- you have been warned!


**Author's Note: Ok! I suppose I can officially call this my first oneshot fanfic (or 1st ever fanfic for that matter)! Apologies for any grammar/spelling errors/appalling writing-style in advance! Please R&R for improvement [because it certainly needs improvement]... and...enjoy?**

"Apologies for the accommodations in advance, my boy..."

"Keep your apologies professor, this is perfect."

"Are you sure? I could certainly-"

"-This is perfect."

He tipped his signature top hat towards me, an evident smile growing on his face. I really didn't deserve this- not after all what happened.

It all began a few years ago... I was naïve and hungry for revenge. It was an awful thing to do, but at the time, it seemed to be amazing- a brilliant scheme; oh how wrong was I? My parents died in an accident eleven years ago, and Layton prevented me from going back to help them. Needless to say, I blamed him most of all. From that day forth, my plot for revenge began.

In his attempt to spare my life, I ended up hating the world more than ever before. My parents were dead; I had no friends or family to support me, and was psychologically not able to cope with the pressure. Yet I was lucky- Constance took me in from the orphanage, and cared for me. She was a dear, loving me as I loved her up until the very end. Sadly enough, the best things never last... I'd learned this at a young age. Constance- I'll never forget her. Ever. She was like a mother to me... just as kind as my own mother.

She left me a large sum of money after she passed away. And of course, I misused the money for personal reasons. In my early teenage years, I began working for the local newspaper business, in search of information about those linked behind my parents' deaths. At last, I uncovered Bill Hawks' name and his web of deception behind the incident. Bill repulsed me. He was by far the worst- the root to all the deaths. It was he, who had killed off so many in order to further himself in his career... to be president.

However, my plan didn't turn out as expected, ending in a disastrous result. I'd destroyed practically half of London, wreaking havoc upon every last citizen. Alas, I was a child. But a very malicious child, at that. In seek of a better future, I'd been as bad as Bill- killing more innocent people than Bill had. For that, I am sorry. For that, I certainly didn't deserve the punishment I gained. It should have been much worse.

I was sentenced to a Young Offenders Institution, until I learned how to cope with reality. It wasn't particularly comfortable, but everyone there treated me far better than expected. They gave me moral support. They gave me a new purpose in life.

And naturally, there was the professor. His first visit came as quite a shock to me, I must admit. He came alone, specifically to talk to me in private. Yet, he was extremely supportive and positive with everything said. He could never truly hate anyone, that man. Hershel Layton was a true gentleman.

He visited me quite frequently afterwards, asking how I was, whether he could do anything to help, and the like. But he always came unaccompanied. I mentioned it casually to him, as subtle as possible, after his first few visits.

Flora just didn't want to see me I surmised... no matter how lightly the professor tried to phrase his words, I knew deep down she hated me for what I did. To be honest, I couldn't blame her.

As for his apprentice? Luke had returned home to his parents to study. But even he wrote letters of support to me every once in a while, using the professor as a vessel for doing so. Looking back at the letters now, it was all quite... touching.

However, the last visit from a guest was definately my most memorable. It all happened around a week ago...

There I was, laying in my cell staring up at the ceiling, bored. Eric was reading some sort of mystery novel, as usual, his eyes flickering across the pages rapidly. Eric always had been something of a bookworm, reading whenever the oppurtunity arised. He was a year younger than myself, yet possessed a strong sense of philosophy. He always appeared more... mature... than the other cellmates, to me. Yet, he hadn't done anything close to the bad things I'd done in the past. I doubt he'd ever done anything wrong, really.

Eric came to the institution a few months after I had, saying he'd done nothing wrong at all, and got caught up in a family incident- that he wasn't to blame. Of course, all the others I'd met at the prison had said something rather similar. Yet, strangely enough, Eric's tale was the only one I truly believed... he had a peculiar sincerity about him, and I believed everything he ever told me. Bless him.

"Clive, you've got a visitor waiting up front."

I blinked, turning my head towards the cell door. It was William- one of the guards.

"Come on lad, there's no need to keep a lady waiting." I almost choked. _Lady?_

It was at this point when Eric peeked over the top of his book, curiously, "Who've you been chatting up, Romeo?"

I shot him a a sly glance, as I headed for the metal bars to the door, "That's for me to know, and for you to find out." Judging from his expression, his interest was piqued.

Within moments, I was outside the cell, which was now locked, and walking at a steady pace beside William. The guard had always been kind to me, a good friend.

"So, what does this _lady_ look like?"

"You should know. She is your sister, after all..." I smirked. I'd humor this 'lady'- as I'd always been an only-child.

A short walk later and we arrived at the visiting area, which surprisingly wasn't filled with prisoners or visitors as it usually was. At the end of the room sat a girl, a pale orange shawl wrapped around her head. Her face was framed by an over-sized pair of blue sunglasses_. Flora..._ I'd already been told about her incognito disguises by Luke, much to his amusement.

Taking the seat opposite her, a wooden table and a sheet of glass between us, I eyed her inquisitively.

"Good evening, Florrrrr-" I paused on the 'r' for effect, "-ence." She looked taken aback, proving the fact that this was the real Flora- why she was hiding her identity was puzzling me. I smiled at her, prompting her to do or at least say something. After a long silence, I realized she wasn't going to talk. I'd be damned if I couldn't make her say something.

"You know, there's no need to wear sunglasses like that in here."

No reply.

"How am I supposed to see your pretty face, otherwise?"

She pursed her lips, still trying not to react.

"Flora. Listen to me. I'm sorry for what I did. It was wrong, and shouldn't have happened-"

"-Clive, I know..." At last, she cut over me. "But why me-?"

I stared at her in disbelief. What on earth was she talking about? "I don't understand..."

"Why d-did you t-take...me?" _Ohhh. _She was talking about when I'd kidnapped her...

"I don't know." Tsk. It was an obvious lie, "I really don't know."

Unsurprisingly, she didn't look convinced.

"It was all a misunderstanding, I guess... I just thought that...well..." My lie was practically screaming in her face, "... I thought the professor would... follow... if I took y-you or...or...Luke...and well, you... you...was closest...to the...exit." All lies. Although I hated to admit it, I'd developed quite a fond crush over her. She didn't know that, though...yet...

At last she removed those darned glasses. "Clive..." she looked deep into my eyes.

"Yes, darling?"

She stiffened up, "I'm not your darling."

"You're absolutely correct-!" I couldn't resist but wind her up, "I'm _your_ darling."

"You're such a...a..."

"I believe the word you're looking for is 'dick,' darling."

Her flustered expression said it all, as she stood up and turned to leave. I'd gone over the top this time, for sure. But it was worth it. At that point in time, I had no idea I'd see her again. At that point in time, I must've been mental. At that point in time, I couldn't help but think she looked cute when she was mad.

"Goodnight then Clive, my boy." The professor backed away, closing the door softly behind him, leaving me alone in the guest bedroom.

Hmph. I'd need more than a _good night_ to survive Flora in the morning.

Ah well. I suppose I _could_ manage.

After all, that's what a gentleman does, right?

Wrong.

Any _sensible_ gentleman would almost certainly go back to prison, scared of what may occur if they were to meet a girl like Flora again.

Hmph. Perfection really does come at a high price.


End file.
